


Quiet Night at Home for the Archives, A

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 10:47:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Alternate universe story.





	Quiet Night at Home for the Archives, A

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

A Quiet Night At Home by Lianne Burwell

A Quiet Night At Home  
Lianne Burwell <>

Disclaimer: Chris Carter, 1013 productions and Fox Broadcasting own The X-Files, and its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made. Please don't sue me.  
This is a slash story. This means sex between consenting adults who happen to both be male. If this offends, DON'T READ IT!  
Not beta'd. Solely the product of my own twisted mind.  
This is an A/U. Set at some *very* undefined point in the series, and Krycek has both arms (I'm not into missing limbs, myself).  
This is my first attempt at an X-Files fanfic, but my other stories (Voyager, Sentinel, Professionals, Once a Thief, War of the Worlds, Hercules, La Femme Nikita and Tokyo Babylon <whew>) can be found at: [archivist's note: url given by author is no longer valid]  
Feedback desperately craved at 

* * *

\----------------------------------------  
A Quiet Night At Home  
by Lianne Burwell  
June 1998  
\----------------------------------------

Mulder opened the door to his apartment and went in, not bothering to turn on the lights. His travel bag, he dropped on the floor next to the door. His overcoat was tossed somewhere in the direction of the kitchen table. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, leaving the sound off for now, hoping that he would be able to find something interesting to watch. It had been almost a month since the last time he'd had a decent night's sleep, and it didn't look like tonight was going to buck the trend.

It had been a lousy week. The reports of UFO sightings in Maine had been *so* promising, but in the end, they had turned to actually * be* weather balloons, of a new design. He would have accepted any other explanation, but weather balloons were just so... cliched.

Mulder was headed for the bathroom, tugging at his tie as he went, when he heard it. The soft sound of someone clearing his throat. Cursing himself for letting his guard down, he turned around to face the figure standing in the shadows in the corner of he room. He squinted for a moment, trying to make out who it was, then sighed.

"What is it now, Krycek?" he asked, not even bothering to pull his gun. There were times he thought that Krycek had watched too much Star Trek. The way he turned up, out of the blue, made mysterious comments and sent Mulder off on road trips that invariably got him into hot water. Who did Krycek think he was? Q?

The double-, triple-, whatever-agent stepped forward into the light coming from the television set. He was pouting. Mulder wanted to sigh. Krycek was a little too old to be pouting, no matter how adorable it made him look. "I just came by to see how you were doing."

"Right. What is it this time? Bigfoot is alive and well and working for the CIA? Elvis was injected with alien DNA, and that's why he *really* died? The Consortium has taken over Coca-Cola Ltd. and is going to come out with a new flavor that has psychedelics mixed in? You never just *drop* by, Krycek. What do you want?"

Mulder waited. He really didn't have the energy for this right now. It wasn't that he didn't like Krycek. Hell, sometime he liked the man better as a traitorous rat-bastard than he did as the over-eager FBI agent, even if he did indulge himself in beating the younger man up almost every time they ran into each other. Like just didn't play a part in their relationship, if you could call it that.

Krycek's head was cocked to the side, and he was studying the shifting light reflected of the ceiling. "What do I want?" he said, mostly to himself. "I want world peace, the consortium gone and the aliens to turn out to be cuddly, friendly people who will bring great technological advances and wipe out world hunger." Mulder couldn't help himself. He snorted. He snickered. He laughed. And it wasn't really that funny. He was tired. That had to be why he was practically rolling on the floor, laughing.

When he wiped away the few tears that had oozed out during his laughing fit, he found Krycek grinning at him. "Thanks," he said. "I needed that. Now, really. What *are* you here for?"

Krycek looked a little sheepish. "I really don't know. I was in the area, just passing through, and I got the urge to stop by and say 'hi'. Nothing more."

Mulder snorted. He still didn't buy it, but he'd play along for the time being. "Fine. Care for a beer?"

* * * * *

A couple of hours later, Mulder was feeling tipsy, and more than a little silly. One beer had become two, then three. A scan of the television found a channel playing "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes", and Mulder had found out that it was a lot more fun watching it with someone else than it was alone. Some of the comments Krycek made... Mulder snickered to himself. Just the whole idea of spending a night at home with Krycek, no guns, no punches, no assassins popping through the door, was almost an X-File in itself.

After the end of the movie, they switched to Mystery Science Theatre 3000, and were having a ball trying to top the comments that the characters on the show were making about the incredibly cheesy B-movie. Mulder was feeling very relaxed by the time the end credits rolled, and was actually beginning to think he might get a decent night's sleep after all.

Finally, he turned off the television, and stood to stretch all the muscles in his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Krycek do the same, and couldn't help smiling at how cat-like it made the man look. The usual leather jacket had been discarded, and the other man had kicked off his shoes, leaving only jeans, t-shirt and white socks. Mulder's jacket and tie had also disappeared during the evening, along with his tie (accompanied by snickers from Krycek), and his shirt was partly undone. Containers from an ordered-in meal of Chinese food were spread across the coffee table.

"Well," he said, feeling almost boneless after the stretch and trying to hide a yawn. "I'm ready for bed."

"Me too. Let's go."

Mulder blinked for a minute, trying to interpret Krycek's statement. Eventually, all he could think of to say was: "Huh?"

"You know. Bed. The place where one sleeps and engages in other activities."

"I usually sleep on the couch," Mulder said. And I must be doing that right now, he thought, because this conversation is making absolutely *no* sense.

"No wonder you look like you've been folded into a pretzel so many mornings. C'mon."

Mulder was so busy trying to figure out what Krycek was up to that he didn't resist when the young man took his hand and pulled him into the bedroom.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Krycek said, shaking his head at the state of the bed. "You really should do housework a little more often."

While Mulder stood in the doorway, Krycek started to push books and laundry off the bed, leaving it in piles on the floor. Once the bedspread had been exposed, he folded it back, then turned to Mulder.

"Now, normally, one doesn't wear clothes to bed," he informed Mulder, and started undoing the buttons on his shirt. "Of course, you're not exactly what anyone would cal *normal*, are you?" His hands headed for Mulder's belt buckle, and Mulder stopped him.

"Krycek, what are you doing?"

Krycek blinked at him through his lashes, in what had to be the worst impression of an 'oh-so-innocent' look. "I'm putting you to bed, silly."

Mulder's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Then what?"

"I go to bed."

"Where?"

"Ummm..."

Mulder groaned. "What, you've decided that since we didn't beat each other up, you'd seduce me instead? And what brought *that* on?"

Krycek grinned. "Why do you think I keep turning up? And for once I'm not handcuffed or too bruised to try anything, and if you think I'm going to pass up the chance." He leaned forward and kissed Mulder, then started undoing Mulder's pants. "You've got another thing coming." He gave a small leer. Mulder's pants were down around his ankles before he could form a reply.

"You expect me to believe you've been wanting to... you know... for a *while*?"

Krycek gave him an exasperated look. "Well, why else would I stick around? Sure, I want to bring the Consortium down. Sure, I want to expose the cover-ups. But *really*, Mulder. I could have done all that from South America or something, and a lot more safely, too." He had finished undressing the unresisting Mulder, and getting his own clothes off. "But noooo. I keep coming around, getting beat up and handcuffed (not that I *mind* handcuffs in the right setting, mind you). Or worse, you hand me over to Skinner or Scully to keep an eye on." He turned Mulder around, and pushed him onto the bed.

"But now we've actually had a pleasant, social-type evening. Dinner and a movie. No yelling, not fighting. Why not end it right?"

With that, Krycek landed on top of Mulder, driving the air out of his lungs. While he was gasping for air, the other man's mouth came down in a very determined kiss. When Mulder's lungs were screaming for air, be pulled back.

"Besides," he said, conversationally. "Considering the life you lead, you must have a permanent case of blue balls. Don't you *every* get lucky?"

Not lately, Mulder's libido pointed out. What the hell, why not? He could always beat Krycek up later.

Mulder twisted, and succeeded in rolling on top of Krycek. "Handcuffs, huh?" He tilted his head as he considered the idea. "Nah," he finally said. "Maybe next time."

Krycek was positively beaming by that point. The sort of sunny, open grin that Mulder had only seen a couple of times when they were partners, and never since Krycek had been exposed as a Consortium agent and had hit the ground running.

Mulder started shifting his weight, slowly rubbing against Krycek's entire body. "So," he asked in mild tone. "What do we do now?" He followed the question by a lick, then a suck at Krycek's neck. It left the most *interesting* sort of mark.

Krycek gaped at him for a moment, then laughed. "What? You've never tried this before?" Mulder shook his head, and rubbed a little closer. His erection was growing nicely, and Krycek's was practically burning a hole in his hip. "Just keep doing what you're doing," the young man gasped. "You're doing just fine."

Mulder decided that was a good idea, especially since his hips didn't exactly seem to be answering to his commands anymore. He managed to coax them into moving over a little bit, so that the two cocks were rubbing against each other. He gasped at the unfamiliar, but *definitely* pleasurable, feeling that the caress caused, and pressed his lips against Krycek's.

The glide of tongue against tongue soon had him moaning. It had definitely been too long since the last time he'd gotten laid. In fact, he couldn't really *remember* the last time, but he was sure gonna remember *this* time. Maybe he *shouldn't* have been so quick to turn down all those invitations from men over the years. 

He was grinding himself against Krycek's body, when the man decided to exchange their positions again. Mulder was looking down at Krycek one moment, looking up into his face the next. Then Krycek lowered himself, controlling the thrusts himself this time. Funny, Mulder gasped to himself, I never thought that nipples rubbing against nipples could be *this* exciting.

Unfortunately, he wasn't really able to exercise much self-control by this point, and it must have been nearly as long for Krycek, since no sooner had Mulder painted their chest with white liquid, Krycek was adding his own touches.

Krycek collapsed on top of him, and the yawns were already forcing their way loose. Mulder rolled his partner over to the side, and slung an arm across the other man's chest, before drifting off to sleep.

* * * * *

Sometime during the night, Mulder woke to find Krycek giving him what was arguably the best blow-job of his life. Of course, he could count on one hand the number of blow-jobs he'd ever received. He moaned, and shifted, while Krycek held his hips and hoovered down every drop he could get out of Mulder.

Once he'd gotten his breath back, Mulder returned the favor. He didn't do *quite* as good a job, it being his first time (he hadn't realized that scraping teeth would cause such an *interesting* screech), but he resolved to do better next time.

Next time? Yeah, there was going to be a next time, if *he* had anything to say in the matter.

* * * * *

Mulder woke again, into the grey light just before dawn. Krycek was getting dressed.

Mulder stood up, and went to wrap his arms around the younger man. "So," he said, after kissing Krycek under the ear. "Any preference in movies for next time?"

"Nah," Krycek said with a smile. "Anything will do. But I'll bring dinner."

"And the handcuffs."

Krycek grinned, then was gone.

Okay, Mulder thought. Maybe he wasn't *completely* like Q. Then again... Hadn't Scully mentioned that there were people on the internet writing sex stories about Picard and Q? Maybe he should look a few of them up. Might give him some ideas for the next time Krycek came calling.

This was *definitely* more fun that beating him up.

THE END


End file.
